Oberon's Nectar
by CrazyCoco50
Summary: "This is exactly why you shouldn't use a magical artifact unless you know what it does."


Sitting in the enormous foyer of Chase Young's lair without him irately sending you away via the threatening, low growls of ten odd jungle cats is everything you'd ever dreamed. Or at least it would be, if circumstances hadn't dictated otherwise. He sneers at you from across the marble, misdirected anger placed squarely upon your shoulders as Raimundo sits by your side, holding your hand and cooing nothings into your ear- also something sweet spoiled by circumstance.

"Where is it." The strained growl isn't so much a question as a demand.

"If I knew, don't you think I'd have used it again by now?" thinking quietly, you think you probably wouldn't have. Fake affection granted by magic is better than pining afar not even daring to hope that… You cut the thought short. Even if you did remember where Oberon's nectar had gone, it might not even do anything. Then again, Dashi seemed to always have some sort of reverse switch for these kinds of Wu. You recall the previous day in an attempt to guess its location.

* * *

"Oberon's nectar, huh? I remember that one- Dashi had this old flame that got too clingy. It was supposed to make the target… er… Well, let's just say it didn't end that great. He wound up just trying to forget it ever existed. Too much work, he said." Dojo said, oblivious to the secret cameras observing both him and the five Dragons-in-training listening to him. You chuckle in your own devious way, rubbing your hands together for effect. Time to head out. You send the observing device into track mode and have it latch onto the stylish backpack Kimiko had stored the Sacred Scroll of the Shen Gong Wu in.  
Time to get to work.

The Shen Gong Wu would be found deep in the woods outside of Athens. It would be you and Raimundo- a race in the darkness with banter thrown across the few spaces between the never-ending obstacles. For once, you won, and without even stopping to cheat. When the dust settled, the half-moon was clouded over just long enough for you to try and pull a fast one over the others and strike when their guard was down. You invoked its power, and in the darkness you hear a squirt, a squelch, and a cry of outrage from the resident wind waker. He stumbled into you, and as the light pierced its way through the darkness his scowl of anger melted into something much softer. Toppled over you, eyes wide like he'd discovered something new, something absolutely wonderful, he'd blushed and clung to your artfully shredded coat before you regained the sense of mind to push him off and run. Magic not-flower in hand, you flew away, barely glimpsing the tip of the iceberg that was now your problem. Most of what you'd focused on was, to say the least, not really safe for a younger audience. The curve of his cheek, the slight purse in his lips, a single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead in the deceptively warm night air- the pressure suddenly thick between you and him was altogether overwhelming and more welcome than you anticipated.

* * *

You hadn't been sure of what happened at all when you returned home the next day. You figured the Wu must not have done anything, so you mucked about the house for a while without getting anything accomplished. You had left it out on a counter somewhere and gone down to your lab to fix up more jackbots- or perhaps even improve on their designs- when you were nearly tackled to the ground by the force of exactly one Brazilian-sized human. You both went down in a heap, and suddenly you were on top of him. You were on top of him, and he didn't hit you. No. In fact, he smiled at you. Blushed at you. He covered his face with his hands like you were two students at a private school too shy to speak.

It's still your favorite part of that day. Chase growls at you to continue your tortuous story, and you comply, embarrassed at your rambling. Anyways.

You'd scrambled to right yourself, stammering empty threats as he stared right back at you, not moving, and only smiling abashedly. He said he'd left the temple to be with you, fidgeting with the Golden Tiger Claws he'd come with.

* * *

By the time you'd calmed him down enough so that he wouldn't try to pin you against the wall every other second (which took quite a bit longer than you'd anticipated), the flower had gone missing. Sighing in exasperation, you were forced to drag a very willing Raimundo back and forth. It probably would've gone faster if you'd split up, but Raimundo refused to leave your side, smiling at you and generally acting in a ridiculous manner. If you were more honest with yourself, the way he blushed when you looked his way or brushed his arm kind of made you want to do the same in return.

But you were rarely honest with yourself anymore.

Either way, the flower had vanished from your home, nowhere to be found. You were stuck with him, like it or not, and you had no idea what to do. It was about that time that Chase had snapped into your home, fuming and ready to snap your neck like a twig. The only reason you weren't dead was because Raimundo had stepped between you and him and refused to move, claiming angrily that he hated Chase now, and loathed his presence. You were more surprised that they'd been a thing in the first place. Then of course he'd taken you both to his lair, and you sat on his couch and told him what happened.

* * *

"So, uh," you begin, "What now?" Your hands were awkwardly clasped in your lap, but they stir as you speak. One reaches up to scratch an itch on your nose. The silence hangs heavily in between you and Chase. You sweat a little under his harsh, staring gaze. Raimundo, though settled quite a bit more than he had been earlier, sent a withering glare in his direction. And surprisingly enough, Chase backed down, his face becoming impassive and disinterested when he looks at you. But when he looks at Raimundo it seems… sad, almost. Nearly makes you guilty for the way he's currently on his back with his head in your lap, magic dancing behind his eyes.  
Nearly.  
From your pocket you feel a buzzing- pulling it out you find you have a text from your mother:  
_'Thank you for the beautiful violet sweetheart!'_ it reads, _'It'll look fantastic with the arrangement I have planned for the head table's bouquet at the annual Antique's Ball tonight'_  
Well then. Chase looks at you expectantly, and you notice that it was probably rude to have checked your phone when you were being interrogated. Especially when the interrogator had an illicit boyfriend to protect from ancient Chinese magic.

* * *

You know that he knows that you know what he needs to know. And it's terrifying, the power that you hold. He will, in fact, threaten you if you don't tell him where the flower is being held, but with Raimundo ready to literally be your human shield, he can't actually make good on it. You know that he knows this as well, and the tenseness, the actual, tangible _nervousness_ you can almost feel squirming under all that armor across that table is making you lightheaded. If you were a decent person, you'd have already given it up.  
But if you were a decent person, you wouldn't be on the Heylin side, now wouldn't you? On your side of the table, you gaze blankly at him, then down to your phone. You put it away slowly, storing it in one of your many, many inner pockets. You idly play with Raimundo's brown hair as you say, "It was nothing."

Apparently, Chase was not above subduing Raimundo to get what he wanted. The monk lies on the couch, wrists and ankles bound and shouting loudly. You lament this fact as you're dangling by your collar in Chase's strong fist. He's sneering at you, and holding your phone.  
"It seems you've got the gall to think you can withhold information from me without consequences." He growls as he reads the most recent texts, lingering on the one from your mother. The phone is crushed in his hand and you gulp, nervously gripping his wrist as you try not to get strangled. Chase lets out an eerie chuckle, "Well," he he tells you, "Looks like we have an auction to attend." You're sweating bullets as he drags you across the polished marble, watching him hoist a struggling Raimundo over his shoulder. "We'd best prepare ourselves."

* * *

You're standing awkwardly at the back of the expansive hall, pulling at the collar of your suit and trying not to draw attention to yourself. About a minute earlier you'd shipped Raimundo off to the snack table because he refused to eat unless you had something too. Chase is by your side, scanning the crowd with a certain coldness that you're admiring in your fear. He's got his eye on the head table, where your mother sits and makes pleasant conversation with other obnoxiously wealthy members of high society. Oberon's nectar sits like a jewel atop the arranged bouquet with it's fragile quality deceptively hiding its destructive capabilities. Chase looks at you with a knowing glance, and you reluctantly head over to initiate a social interaction with your mother in public.

She's surprised- as well as pleased(?)- to see you here of your own volition. She ceases her chattering with a charming gentleman who becomes less so as he sashays away with his nose in the air. Must've been an aspiring model or designer. Serves them right, you guess. Your mom was a hard woman to please. From the corner of your eye you see Chase deftly pocket the centerpiece's main event, stowing the precious cargo inside his well-tailored jacket. Before your mother can fully entrap you in conversation you make up a hasty excuse that you had just stopped by to say hi. She looks a bit crestfallen as you walk away, though most wouldn't have been able to tell since she was a master of the social Charleston.

* * *

This was it. The moment of truth. Keeping you well away from Raimundo, Chase had brought you both back to the citadel, along with the troubling Wu that plagued you. Reluctantly, you stood by and watched him as he undid the spell, the winding magic appearing as floating, sparkling pollen. It 'POFF'ed Raimundo straight in the face, and he passed out, falling right into Chase's open arms. One strong leer from him was enough to get you to back away, but not enough to leave. You hovered, and thankfully Chase was much too distracted by Raimundo to bother getting rid of you.

Eventually, he came to. Incredibly enough, he also had no recollection of the previous day; he described it more as an incredibly bizarre dream than an actual event. He certainly didn't recall anything between him and you. A shame, really, but for the best. You'd be mortified if anyone knew that you were interested in him in any way other than a platonic, mutual animosity. Well, anyone besides Chase, now. Nevertheless, you slink away before Raimundo notices you're here. Or at least you would've, if you were more stealthy and he less observant. At first he looks surprised, but then he smirks and asks if since you're already here, why not stick around and hang for a few? Chase looks mortified, and Raimundo jabs him in the arm with his elbow at it, replying that it's not like he was going to marry you, or anything. You bite your lip to hold back a snort and are whelmingly successful.


End file.
